Royal Divination
by WitchatHeart77
Summary: As a lesson in Divination, Hermione must use her knowledge of History to get herself out of a dangerous situation...her own hanging. Challenge for the Hideaway.


-1The class seemed to drone on. Hermione, having read the two chapters a week ago, was almost bored. Almost.

"What do we learn from Elizabeth Barton?" Professor Binns asked the half awake class.

Hermione sat for a moment and realized the answer. Everything she ever thought about Divination was wrong. Elizabeth Barton was a true seer and what she prophesied was just as real. She raised her hand tentatively.

"Miss Granger?"

She took a deep breath. "Elizabeth Barton was telling the truth and in turn was hanged for it. No one else could see the vision she had, so they didn't believe her."

"And what conclusion does that have to do with present day, Miss Granger?"

Hermione almost looked chagrined. "Divination is not a hoax like so many believe it to be."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Everyone is dismissed. Do have fun with Professor Trelawney next period."

Hermione sighed, rolled her eyes, and packed her books. She was of course the one to which the portly spectre was referring. Divination was her next class. She walked slowly to the door and began what seemed to be the long climb into the tower room. She vowed she would never re-enter the classroom, but Headmistress McGonagall advised that she needed to have an acceptable grade in Divination before she would be allowed to graduate. Hermione had survived the second war. She had stood beside Harry as he defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. What could a little inner eye possibly do to her?

…Hermione was about to find out.

Fifteen minutes into the lecture, Hermione found herself awakened suddenly by a sharp cuff to the back of the head.

"Miss Granger! How dare you sleep in my class? I know you do not believe in my abilities, but your future depends on this class. See me after lecture." Professor Trelawney continued with her curriculum as Hermione regretted scheduling the class after History.

Once the students left the room, Hermione trudged her way to the desk, worried of the professor's next comments.

"Hermione," Hermione shivered at how the woman used her given name, "I believe Professor Binn's would agree that one cannot learn without experience. Therefore, I have sent him a missive requesting to give you such experience. Ah, there is his owl now." Trelawney read the note and nodded silently with a slight grin on her face. "He has agreed. You are to meet him in his classroom immediately. Should you succeed in your assignment, I will give you a passing grade for the semester, seeing as you will not be here."

"I won't be here? What do you mean by that?"

"Quiet now, child. Go and receive your homework."

Perplexed, Hermione did as she was told. Every intellectual spark in her brain tried to make sense of what she was supposed to do. What would History have to do with Divination? Hermione reached the door to Binn's class before she realized. She slowly opened the door when there was no answer to her knock. Approaching the teacher's desk cautiously, she spied a vial and note.

"Drink this and sit in the chair to your left"

Hermione looked around, but saw no one. She couldn't feel a presence as if Professor Binn's was watching covertly; it was actually warmer in the room than it was usually. Hermione could tell the handwriting was the same as the History professor, so she trusted the request to be from him. She lifted the topper from the vial and sniffed warily. No odor could be detected.

"If that was a rather strong aroma based poison, Miss Granger, I do say you would dead right now."

She turned quickly to see Deputy Headmaster Snape standing in the doorway. "Professor, I…"

"Do as your told, Miss Granger. Drink the contents. I prepared it myself. I will assist you until it takes effect and will be here when you come back."

"But Professor, where am I going?"

"Miss Granger, those who refuse to remember the past are doomed to repeat it. Now, drink."

Hermione tipped the vial against her lips and felt the smooth sweetness slide down her throat. She was thankful the potion wasn't vile in taste. Perhaps he made it that way. She smiled at the notion that he would do something so kind. She looked up to see him approaching her as if he was in slow motion. She could barely hear his consoling words.

"Come, sit down, Miss Granger. It will be all made right. Sit now." He led her to the chair and placed a thick duvet around her legs. "Lie back and relax. Let the potion work."

Hermione did as he said; his voice was comforting somehow, almost inviting. Her eyes closed slowly and she could feel a light breeze caress her hair; or was it his hand? She was too out of it to realize the latter was true. She quickly fell asleep.

She awoke a few moments later. He had lied to her. Professor Snape was nowhere to be found. However, her surroundings were slightly different.

Instead of a cold stone classroom, she was lying on a regal four poster bed adorned with cherubs and mahogany twists. The linens were burgundy entwined with gold metallic threads with tassels around the edges. The walls had every type of tapestry known to her. However, the era of the designs seemed to stop around Henry VIII's field of taste. The canvas painting across the foot of the bed had a face that startled Hermione. It was a painting of herself, dressed in 16th century style and grace. The bodice hugged her bossom as the sleeves billowed around her wrists only to be constrained by a long cuff. The skirt flowed out from her hips and touched the floor with the tips of its lace petticoat and farthingale. Her hair was tightly braided around the nape of her neck and then twisted to the back of her head. There were eighteen pearls that were tucked neatly into the chestnut locks.

Hermione could have sworn she remembered the day the portrait was done, but how could that be possible. The paint was still fresh, some areas still wet. Her thoughts were interrupted by voices in the hall. She slowly stood and took the door. She pressed her ear lightly against the harsh grain.

"Twas that not a rouge? She is deceiving His Majesty. To take a fall in his presence is absurd."

"I will attend to Mistress Barton, Your Majesty. I suggest you take your place in court. Your Highness has more pressing matters to which to attend."

Hermione could hear the woman's huff and her light footsteps begin down the hallway. She turned and jumped back into the bed when she heard the handle click. _Handle? Where's the knob?_

When the door opened, Hermione was immediately relieved. In all his faux persona of an evil being, the raven haired man himself stood before her. He hadn't lied to her after all. He was there when she awoke.

"Professor Snape, I was so worried for a moment."

"I beg your pardon? How dare you speak to a member of His Majesty's royal court before being addressed?!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I believe you need to rest. That was a rather a nasty spill you took. Possibly addled your brain."

"Professor?"

"Who is this Professor of whom you speak? I am Sir Thomas Cromwell, M'Lady. You will address me as Sir Thomas if you wish. I prefer Sir Cromwell. If there is nothing further, I will take my leave of you."

And with a hasty exit, he left the confused girl lying on the bed and wishing she had her muggle History book. That name was so familiar. She had heard it before. She couldn't place where. And why did he look so much like Severus Snape?


End file.
